Asgitsga
by kingdomheartsforevs
Summary: Title means "Dream." The history of 2P!America's revolution. "Alo had finally found paradise. It took centuries, sure. But he'd built it from the ground up – from the ashes of a dream. " Rated T for some coarse language.


_A/N:_  
Okay so. I got this idea while on a road trip with my family.  
Since no one really talks about 2P!America's history…  
I figured someone needed to write about it.  
And so.  
_I have stepped up to the challenge.  
Sorry if it's shitty._  
Oh, and uh, "Alo" is Hopi in origin and means "spiritual guide", aaand specifically has to do with leader-type individuals – stubborn, resenting authority, proud. Yeah. I thought it fit Al perfectly.  
And his Cherokee friend, "Asgitsga", means dream. Symbolism. Aw yis.  
_Uganasdv Asgitsa_ – Sweet dreams.

* * *

_When she was just a girl,  
She expected the world.  
But it flew away from her reach, so she ran away in her sleep.  
She dreams of para-para-paradise,  
Para-para-paradise  
Para-para-paradise  
Every time she closed her eyes._

Alo sat quietly on the grass beside one of the young girls from one of the many tribes he knew. It was a tribe he held close to his heart – one of the largest his plains gave home to – the Cherokee.

Her name was Asgitsga, and he loved her.

She was incredibly intelligent and impassioned and cared so deeply for the land – and for him, the spirit of it. And her love burned for him – burned with pride.

But not with the love Alo sought.

But it did not hinder how he felt for her. He would give it all if he could sit here and dream with her every day – so peaceful, so quiet. But being the spirit of life for an entire nation gave him extreme responsibility – one he wouldn't dare toss aside. And so he parted from Asgitsga and her tribe often, but visited year after year.

This was one of his long-awaited visits. He sat beside her and watched as her stomach rose and fell heavily with a sigh, watched her lips part to breathe the air, watched her deep eyes open in realization of his presence.

"Hello, Alo."

And when those eyes caught his, he struggled for a smile rather than the failure of his jaw.

"Hello, Asgitsga. Daydreaming again?"

"Daydreaming would imply that it is day," she chuckled quietly, pushing herself up to sit beside him, her long, raven hair brushing the grass even as her back stood erect. "So, no. But I was thinking about the Cherokee, and how small we are."

Alo grinned, turning his gaze toward the stars. She knew what she meant, but wanted to hear more of her dreamer's words. "Small? But, my sister, you are kin to the largest nation I provide these lands to. What makes you say small?"

"Just because a man is tall, it does not mean there is nothing that is bigger."

Alo's grin only widened, and he glanced at her. "Very true. But how much bigger could anything possibly be?"

Her mouth toppled into a crooked grin that Alo found himself melting over. "I could not possibly say. But I have no doubt you could know, couldn't you, Alo?"

He gave a lazy shrug, never allowing himself to give her a full answer. If she were anyone else, he would. But she was different.

"I might."

_When she was just a girl,  
She expected the world.  
__But it flew away from her reach,  
And the bullets catch in their teeth._  


"Alo!"

The sun had set and risen again, and Alo had found himself barely able to rest, after his night spent with Asgitsga. He was prepared to leave when the sun was highest in the sky.

But it was unusual for the chief to run to him so frantically, calling his name in such a panicked voice. What could possibly be the matter?

"I am here, Balavan. What is wrong?"

"A man with white skin. He has come here requesting to speak with you – the spirit of the land. It is very odd, and he is dressed… strangely, to say the least."

Alo's eyebrows rose. "Where is he?"

Balavan pointed to the western entrance of the village, his eyes wary. "His smile is false, Alo. Do not be fooled by any sweet words he gives you. I sense disturbance within them."

Alo's jaw tightened and he gave the chief a nod, his mind racing. "I will meet you there. Give me some time."

The chief nodded in understanding and strode briskly away, brown, buffalo-skin cape dragging behind him.

Alo stood there a moment, trying to sort through his thoughts._ A man with white skin… how strange. I know our world is big… but how big?_

He didn't hear the soft footfalls behind him until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He whipped around, brows furrowed and eyes set in a thoughtful glare, to stare at none other than Asgitsga.

"Asgitsga? What is wrong?"

"You looked in pain," she said in a worried, hushed tone. "So I wanted to see if I could help. I saw the white men approach. They seem fearless."

"Yes, and they know of me… even where to find me…" Alo mumbled, wiping his face with a hand. "And I mustn't keep them waiting longer. Are you sure you should - ?"

"I am coming with you," she remarked confidently, that crooked grin on her face – and how could Alo refuse?

And so she followed him to the western entrance of the village, where Alo's jaw tightened once more and his movements became stressed and stiff. A terrifying power was radiating from his appointment's direction, and he knew not what it meant, but it scared him – and he wasn't often scared.

Asgitsga touched his arm and smiled.

"I will be right beside you."

And that gave him strength to stand before the white man, high on his horse, dressed lavishly in bright, red, long robes and a large headpiece, a feather poking from the top. It was very, very odd, and only intimidated Alo all the more.

"Ooohh, hello," the man crooned, a forced, friendly smile on his pale face. His skin reminded Alo of the moon – so white. "And you must be this… Alo. The… _spirit _of this land, yes?"

This man could barely speak Cherokee, and Alo's senses seemed to be short-circuiting. He had never encountered another person who could make him feel so… quaint before. So little; so conquerable.

"Yes. I am Alo," the spirit said firmly, with as much confidence as he could muster. "And you? What is your… _purpose_, here?"

The smile only grew sweeter as the man dismounted his horse and stood but a few feet away from Alo. "Yes, I am Arthur Kirkland, also known as Great Britain, the British Empire, yes, yes. I am also what you would call a… spirit, though that term is far too generic," he stated in almost a… mocking tone; seeming to belittle the man he spoke to. Alo had never felt disrespected, and it was frustrating.

"Then what term would you use, Arthur?"

"Personification of a people. To be precise. Obviously there is no "spirit" of a land – there is only one spirit, and that is the Lord." He gave quite the bitter chuckle, hands tucking into his pockets. "Also, my purpose here – well, that is simple. I am asking politely for you to give yourself over."

Alo stood before him with a gaping mouth, brows furrowing. Give himself… over?

"What does that mean? You want - ?"

"I want _you_, you barbarian," Arthur practically growled, a pale, freckled hand running through light pink hair in frustration. "My empire is growing, your land is fertile and my people need a place to settle. Agree peacefully and none of your lovely…_ citizens _shall be harmed."

Alo was speechless for quite a few long moments, jaw still slack, confusion still evident. _What? How could this be? I've never even seen this man before in my life, and he wishes to _**keep**_ me? Like some prize he has won?  
_  
Just as the spirit began to regain his confidence – his anger surging – Asgitsga stepped forward, her muscles tensed, and he stared at her, willing her to step back, because this man would not have the audacity to demand something of this magnitude were he not strong enough to.

"No," she answered firmly, her stance strong, body stable. "Why would he give himself to you? Even if you threaten us, he has faith. You cannot harm us. We are too strong."

Arthur's sweet smile stretched into something more sinister, one of his hands pulling slowly out of his pocket, a glaring, metal object clicking in his palm.

"Oh, can't I, pet? You've yet to see one of these, have you? Faster than an arrow and twice as deadly. I could shoot you from aaall the way over here and kill you instantly."

Her teeth ground in her mouth and she turned away from him, only to move into a protective stance before Alo, her arms spread out wide and her chin raised defiantly, proud, strong cheekbones lit by the late morning sun in the most beautiful way, her dark, flowing hair shining radiantly like a dark sun.

And Alo loved her so much.

"Pity."

A crack – like thunder – rang through the air.

Thunder had always terrified Alo. Ever since he was a child. Because he always thought it could strike him dead.

A twisted grin darkened Arthur's face as the weapon clicked again and he pointed it elsewhere.

"Who would like to be next?"

Asgitsga's body hit the ground and those once deep, wondrous eyes were dark and cold.

And Alo screamed.

_Life goes on, it gets so heavy.  
__The wheel breaks the butterfly.  
Every tear, a waterfall…  
In the night, the stormy night,  
She'll close her eyes.  
In the night, the stormy night,  
Away she flies._

The crowd of villagers were silent and the air was dead – void of sound, of wind, of any life but the sun in the sky.

Alo fell to his knees.

"I surrender! _I surrender_. Please let no more blood be shed. Please. Take me."

"Well," Arthur chimed in a smug, happy tone, giving a snap of his pale fingers. Two men came and held Alo by the upper arms, tugging his up roughly and dragging him forward. "That was much easier than anticipated, but I am a man of my word. No more fuss, yes? I mean business, my dear, and it took a girl's life for you to realize that. Such a shame."

Tears poured from Alo's eyes and he felt numb.

The villagers stared with shock and terror. How could he give in so easily? How could he?

But none of them moved to stop the white men. They were unprepared for conflict, and too gob smacked to fight. Instead, two of the villagers moved quickly to Asgitsga, taking her body gently and carrying it away with loving arms.

Alo would never see her crooked grin again.

_She dreams of para-para-paradise,  
Para-para-paradise  
__Para-para-paradise  
Whoa-oh-oh-a-oh-oh  
__And dreams of para-para-paradise,  
Para-para-paradise  
__Para-para-paradise  
Whoa-oh-oh-a-oh-oh._  


Al stared longingly up at the stars.

Sometimes, he could swear he saw those dark, deep, knowing eyes – that dreamer's spark in each twinkling light.

And then he realized it was ridiculous.

"Alfred, darling? What are you doing out here? It's freezing. I always found you gazing stupidly at those stars at the most preposterous times of the night."

The redhead sighed, his eyes shifting to the ground. "Sorry, Arthur. Just helps me think. You know I barely get any sleep."

A pale hand – so white it glowed in the night – rested firmly on his shoulder, and Al flinched, tensing. _You know what day it is_.

"Oh, I'm aware, dear. But, after a few decades, you'd figure a man would get some much-needed sleep."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to get rest when you have so many worries."

Arthur blinked up at him, blue-pink eyes wide and falsely innocent. He was just as horrible as all those years ago.

"Worries? Alfred, you are my colony. I take care of every worry for you."

Al shrugged the hand from his shoulder and turned on his heel, walking briskly back to the Englishman's lavish mansion.

"I'm going to bed. I want today to be over."

It was the anniversary of the death of his dream.

The death of his Asgitsga.

And he was getting sick of Arthur's shit.

_And so lying underneath those stormy skies,  
She said, "Oh, I know the sun must set to rise."  
_  
And now he knew what he had to do.

Decades of this innocent, Arthur-can-never-do-wrong act and Al was going to end it.

"As they say," Al mumbled to himself on a cold, pale morning, sharpening his bayonet. "The sun must set to rise."

Today was a big day – the start of his war for revolution.

A century and a half of this bullshit had started with the death of someone he loved, and now his new life had begun yesterday with a similar act of violence.

He had shot his brother. In the chest.

Matt had deserved it, truthfully. He spoke to Al as if he were stupid – completely incapable of handling any sort of responsibility. His northern brother was treating him how Arthur always had, like garbage. Al was presented with a gleaming opportunity, and he took it. He knew Matt wouldn't die.

But Arthur had been furious.

Well, more than furious. His eyes glowed with that same putrid, hateful energy as they had the day he had killed Alo's dream. His paradise.

And Al was going to take it back.

As he stepped outside – into war, into chaos – the dream from so long ago resurfaced, and with renewed determination, Al remembered who he once was. He was Alo, spirit of the Free Nation -

And he remembered his Asgitsga.

_This could be para-para-paradise,  
Para-para-paradise  
__Para-para-paradise  
Whoa-oh-oh-a-oh-oh_  


"Alfred. I insist you stand down. This childish rebellion will no longer be tolerated."

It was one-on-one. Arthur had, mockingly, ordered his soldiers to fall back – though his side had its fair share of casualties; more than Al's side had. And yet, the Brit had the gall to be mocking.

"My name isn't Alfred. Never has been." The nation's voice was hoarse and dry – but he chuckled, arms hanging tiredly at his sides. "Childish rebellion? Arthur. I _hate _you. Sorry to burst your bubble. You killed everything I had, forced your people on me, gave my people – the _native_ Americans – to bondage. Did you think I just let that slide?"

Arthur's jaw clenched visibly and he cleared his throat.

"I am clearly stronger than you. I was simply showing it. I needed more space –"

"More _space_?" Al snorted, completely disbelieving. He killed innocent people for _space_? "You fucking _liar _–"

"Watch your language!"

"Fuck you. The day you came and ruined my life was the day you sealed your fate. Now you're fucked, 'cause I'm gonna win this damn battle and you're going to lose the biggest investment you've ever made. Country by country, your empire will fall. I'm just the first of many."

Arthur cracked his knuckles, reaching once more for the pistol that rested in the holster on his hip. "It was her fault."

Al's eyes burned bright red with fury. "You shouldn't have shot her."

"Is this whole war over a disgusting little Indian girl?"

Al snarled, cocking his own pistol as an angry tear streamed down his cheek.

"You idiot. You killed thousands of my people, shackled the rest – made them slaves, and held me hostage for almost two centuries. You expected me to tolerate this shit?"

Arthur's glare was one that Al had rarely ever seen – and one that was certainly never directed at him.

"That potty mouth of yours is truly sickening. May I shut it already?"

"Take your best fucking shot, fuckass. We'll see who ends up quiet in the end."

And, just as Al's life of death and hatred began, it ended with a single gun shot.

A gun shot that the world would forever remember as the one that ended the British Empire.

"_Uganasdv asgitsa._"

_Could be para-para-paradise,  
Para-para-paradise  
__Para-para-paradise  
Whoa-oh-oh-a-oh-oh_  


Alo had finally found paradise.

It took centuries, sure. But he'd built it from the ground up – from the ashes of a dream.

His people were blissfully happy, the country maybe no quite as prosperous as he'd hoped – he was in piles of debt, to say the least – but otherwise, he was doing well. He paid off his debts through trade and honest work, and his citizens were grateful.

Every year, on July fourth, Al was treated like a god.

He humbly – for one day a year, of course – accepted their showers of gifts and love, giving them smiles and kind words in return. He was truly happy.

He and Matt were on good terms again. Well, as good of terms as you can be with a guy as frustrating as Matt Williams. And Arthur… Arthur treated him as an equal.

And Al lived his long-sought-after dream. Every July fourth, as the festivities would begin to end, he took some time to himself to gaze up at the stars and give them his strongest smile, whispering words of encouragement and praise to the stars – and still, he could swear, he always found his Asgitsga among them.

"I did it," he said one year, laughing aloud as festive music echoed in the air. "_We_ did it, Asgitsga. I can never thank you enough."

* * *

Oh, and just thought I should point out that I think 2P!Arthur was a real fucking prick. More of one than 1P was. But 2P!Arthur also made the more dramatic changes and tried to kind of step it up as a father to his colonies.

But yeah. This shit's full of headcanons sORRY IF IT SUCKED


End file.
